The Prisoner's Dilemma
by TrickPhotography
Summary: Bucky's words appeared just as he hit puberty. He'd taken it with good-natured razzing, just like he'd endured the teasing when his voice broke mid-word and the red spots that appeared on his face. But it wasn't so much that the words had appeared, but what they were. The prisoner's dilemma. Soul mate - AU; Bucky/Darcy/Steve
1. Chapter 1

Bucky's words appeared just as he hit puberty. He'd taken it with good-natured razzing, just like he'd endured the teasing when his voice broke mid-word and the red spots that appeared on his face. But it wasn't so much that the words had appeared, but what they were.

The prisoner's dilemma.

He caught his Ma looking at his wrist more often than once before a slightly disappointed look crossed her face. Buck could guess what she was thinking because he'd wondered the same thing – was he going to go to slammer someday? What would drive him to break the law? Whenever he got in trouble, she would point to his words and say, "I'm not raising a hellion for a son."

After his Ma died, the orphanages did the same. His knuckles were rapped and his ears boxed more often than not. He figured they were trying to knock some sense into him, trying to make sure he didn't become some delinquent.

When he met Steve, Bucky figured he'd be thrown in jail for fighting someday. But whenever the police broke up a fight, he and Steve always managed to slip away and nurse their bloody noses and knuckles without seeing the inside of a cell. He yelled at Steve for picking so many fights – he was gonna get himself killed one day when he took on a guy too big without Buck there to back him up. Steve yelled back saying that he could handle it by himself, that he wasn't going to stop sticking up for the people that couldn't, and if Buck didn't like it then to he could ignore it.

But he couldn't leave his punk friend to fight by himself.

OOO

They were sitting in an art class. The studio was warmer than their apartment and Buck worried about Steve sitting in the cold too long, so he'd raided his savings and treated them both to a drawing class. While Steve was concentrating on the model in front of them, Buck was appreciating the dame's curves. The wind would occasional buffet the windows and a cold draft would sneak in; he watched as goose bumps rose on her pins and she shivered.

"Start drawing or you'll get us kicked out," Steve hissed, glancing up from his rough outline to Bucky's own blank page. Buck shrugged and tried to copy Steve's outline; it was pretty obvious who was the artistic friend.

The calm of the studio was broken when they heard someone pounding up the stairs and the door to the studio was thrown open. A flustered man leaned in, sweat pouring down his face and said, "The Japs are bombing Pearl Harbor!"

Pearl Harbor.

The next day they were at War with Japan.

Steve got his first 4F from the Brooklyn recruitment office on Christmas Eve.

Buck worked with him to train, hoping that he seemed sincere when he told Steve that he believed that the military would take him one day. Secretly, he knew that they wouldn't – he had too many medical problems – and he was relieved.

And then Buck got a letter saying he'd been drafted and was expected to report for basic training in a week.

OOO

There were times when he wondered if Steve wasn't his soul mate. He'd known from the moment they'd met that they weren't, but it didn't stop him from thinking about it – he was the person Buck cared more about than anyone in the world.

The night he got home from boot camp, Bucky had snuck a bottle of whisky into their room at the boarding house and was in the process of getting rip roaring drunk.

"I think the whole system's shit," he grumbled, swiping a hand down his face; he was half hanging off of his bed and the bottle dangled from his fingers. "Yer just gonna walk up to someone an' say the words, then BAM! Yer stuck with 'em for the rest of yer life."

"I donno," Steve shrugged, his fingers subconsciously tracing the words. He was one of the few lucky enough to have a name – 'Gentlemen, I am Agent Carter'. "I think it's reassuring – there's someone out there whose gonna take you for what you are."

Bucky narrowed his eyes and grunted, "Anyone'd be stupid to pass you up, punk." Steve pressed his lips together in a sad smile and tipped his head as he swirled his whiskey.

"The world's full of stupid people, Buck."

OOO

War wasn't what Steve thought it was. It was cold and bloody and wet. It was being weary of making friends with some guy in your company because the next day you could be taking his dog tag and adding it to the pile for death notifications to be sent to his family.

War wasn't a game. War wasn't heroic. War was being so scared you pissed your pants and threw up the first time you were in a firefight and saw the brains splattered on the trench wall.

The letters from Steve kept him sane. He liked knowing that his brother was safe in New York, even if he wasn't happy with it.

When his unit was captured, Bucky started to feel panic about his words. The sound of the cell opening caused his heart to start thumping in fear – not only because there was the chance of being picked for Zola's lab but it also brought the chance of hearing _those_ words. The thought of meeting his soul mate here, in these conditions, was enough to make him think about trying to sharpen his dog tags enough to slit his wrists.

"Him."

His day came and Bucky tried not to think about the men who'd never come back after Zola picked them. As he was half dragged down the hall, he kept his ears open, straining to hear those words.

When he didn't, Buck started to wonder if his soul mate would feel when he died.

OOO

His world was pain and heat and anger.

It was needles and questions, and Steve's face swimming before his eyes.

"It's me. It's Steve."

Steve.

OOO

"Could you have picked a bigger bunch of idiots?" Bucky asked as he and Steve walked away from the first strategy meeting with the Howling Commandos. His harsh words were tempered with a smile, but he felt worry gnawing at his gut.

"You're already on the squad, so probably not," Steve gave him that cocky, crooked smile.

"Jack ass," Buck sighed. It was still strange having to reach higher to put his arm around Steve's neck, but he managed.

OOO

"I had him on the ropes," he said.

"I know you did," Steve replied. He turned quickly at a high-pitched whining and grabbed Buck's arm, pulling him behind to shield him. One of those HYDRA bullets hit his shield and sent Steve flying back into him, and Buck took the brunt of the hit against the rack of weapons. The shot ricochet and blew a hole in the side of the train. Steve was down, and he didn't think before picking up the fallen shield.

He may not have been the best at a lot of things, but Bucky prided himself on his shot. But the damn armor the guy was wearing covered him from head to toe and made it impossible to find a weakness. The whining started again and the light shot out.

It slammed into the shield and, for a split second, Buck marveled at how strong Steve must have become to withstand a hit like that. He flew through the air and had the wind knocked out of him as he hit the corrugated metal. His fingers scrambled for a purchase as the wind rushed by, trying to pull him further out of the train. Heart in his throat, he managed to grab hold of a bar and swung to get a better grip. The train continued at its speed, the force nearly pulling him away.

"Bucky!" Steve yelled. His blue eyes were wide with panic as stepped out of the safety and onto the peeled away metal. Buck wanted to yell at him to get back inside but fear closed his throat. "Hang on!" he ordered.

He forced himself to move, to try and get closer. The metal gave – just a bit. "Grab my hand!" Steve ordered, reaching out as far as he could. Buck made himself move, and the handle gave under his weight. "NO!"

Falling. Bucky screamed.

Pain.

Darkness.

OOO

"Sergeant Barnes."

He recognized the voice that haunted his nightmares.

Bucky gained and lost consciousness, seeing flashes of people and blood in the snow. He weakly tried to fight off his captors and realized that he couldn't feel his left arm.

"The procedure has already started."

Zola's face. Zola's voice.

"Let me die," Bucky whispered.

"You are to be the new fist of HYDRA."

James Buchanan Barnes died.

"Put him on ice."

The Asset was born.

OOO

The Asset looked at the scars on his wrist and felt something tug at the back of his mind. The black words written there were mangled to the point of being unreadable; it looked as though someone had gotten as close to flaying the skin off as they could.

"The American will spend the rest of his life guarding me," a gruff voice said. He didn't look up, hadn't been told that he could.

OOO

"Put him on ice. He has failed."

Inside the tube, he traced that mangled skin until he was put back under.

OOO

"What were they?" Natalia asked, her small fingers – fingers he had broken many times during training – tracing the scars.

"Hm?" he grunted. His metal arm whirled as his fingers flexed on her hip.

"Your words. Do you remember what they were?"

"_Nyet._"

"They took mine too," she said, rolling onto her stomach and brushing aside her hair. His hand moved to trace the faded white lines on her shoulder before lifting himself up to replace his fingers with his lips.

"Who would want monsters like us?" he asked.

"Only other monsters," she answered, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck and kissing him.

They were discovered a week later.

"Watch, Widow. Watch!" Petrovich gripped the back of her neck and shook her, forcing Natalia to look as he was strapped to the chair. He schooled his expression and forced himself not to stand and break the man's arm.

She would suffer for his actions.

He allowed himself to be pushed down. His body trembled, remembering the pain from the previous times he'd been wiped.

The Asset screamed.

OOO

The Winter Soldier waited. He had been trained to be still for hours on end, waiting for his target to come into view. He spent the time examining the scars on his wrist and could just make out the words underneath.

_The prisoner's dilemma_.

His handlers had pulled him from his previous mission and put him on this one. The job needed to be done quickly if he were to make it back in time to catch the Iranian. The targets were due to arrive any minute now; his finger curled around the rifle's trigger. He'd chosen this vantage point for maximum efficiency – two kills and it would appear to be an accident. Their insider had already sabotaged the breaks and air bags.

The limo neared.

He lined up the shot. Squeezed the trigger.

It careened out of control before rolling, glass shattering as it neared the edge of the cliff.

The Asset slung the rifle across his back, eliminated any trace that he'd been there, and leapt down. The glass crunched under his boots as he neared the wreckage, and pitiful moans reached his ears.

"Maria," the target gasped. "Oh god, Maria!"

The Asset crouched and peered into the car. The woman was dead already, her neck snapped, but the target was crawling towards her. He stilled as he saw the Asset. "Barnes?"

His eyes took in the target's injuries; they weren't severe enough to cause death. He stood.

"Barnes! Bucky, for God's sake, do something! Help me!"

The Asset braced his hands against the car and pushed.

The target screamed as it rolled off the cliff.

OOO

"Bucky?" the man asked, lowering his shield.

The Asset turned towards him. "Who the hell is Bucky?" he asked, raising his gun.

OOO

"You know me," the target said.

"No I don't!" the Winter Soldier yelled as he threw a punch. He felt something in his memory shift – had felt it since seeing that damn uniform – but the mission came first.

"Bucky, you've know me your whole life," the target insisted. Neurons fired, bringing up confusing images of the man smiling and clapping him on the shoulder.

The Asset had no memories. He had no past. He had no future.

He hit him, and the target lurched away as the helicarrier engine exploded.

"Your name is James Buchanan Barnes."

_Bucky. Call me Bucky._

"SHUT UP!" he batted him away. The target removed his helmet and stumbled to his feet.

"I'm not gonna fight you. You're my friend." He dropped his weapon, his shield.

The Asset looked at him, seeing the same man reach for him as he reached back. And then Pierce's voice blocked it out, _"I want a confirmed kill in 10 hours."_

He flew at him, catching him in the stomach and driving him to the ground. "You're my mission." The target didn't fight back, didn't try to stop him as he threw punch after punch. "You're! My! Mission!" He wanted him to fight back, to make this easier, to give him a reason to continue.

"Then finish it," he said, "cause I'm with you t-'til the end of the line."

_Steve. It was his job to protect Steve. _

It was his mission to kill him.

Glass shattered and he was falling.

"_Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone." _

"_How could I? You're takin' all the stupid with you."_

It was his job to protect him.

It was his mission to kill him.

He left him on the banks of the Potomac.

OOO

His name was James Buchanan Barnes. He went by Bucky.

He'd been born and raised in Brooklyn, New York before going to war.

He spent the next year traveling the world and burning HYDRA to the ground.

She found him in a café in Bucharest, two cups of coffee steaming on the table she sat at. He'd watched her from the rooftop for an hour before deciding she'd come alone.

"It was warm," she said as he sat across from her.

"Natalia."

"It's Natasha now," she said, her eyebrow twitching as her lips pursed into a smile. "I haven't been Natalia for a long while."

"Is he with you?"

"No, but he's looking. You haven't exactly been subtle," she smirked again before something in her eyes shifted. Her voice has lost its sarcastic bite when she said, "He was surprised that I knew you."

"You didn't. Not…" he frowned and wrapped his flesh and bone hand around the cold coffee. "I'm not him, not anymore."

"Barnes or the Winter Soldier?"

"Both."

She nodded and sat up. He flinched and she noticed; slowly, telegraphing her movements, Natalia – Natasha – reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. "When you're ready to come in from the cold, this is where you'll find him."

He reached out for it, the ratty sleeve pulling off of his wrist as he did so. Her eyes tracked the movement and her smile softened when she saw the scars. "If you stop running, you may find them."

The Asset…Bucky….James scowled. He hated those scars and what they represented – another loss of free will, another predetermined choice that he had no say in. He could only hope that the person had died happy with someone else. Instead, he spat, "Who would want a monster?"

"You'd be surprised," she said, her hand reaching up to touch the arrow charm on her necklace. "Even monsters find love."

OOO

He waited in the shadows, hands thrust into the tattered pockets of his sweatshirt and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes.

Being in the crowd made him feel twitchy, so he slipped into an alleyway and leaned back against the wall. The smell of garbage filled his nose but he'd been in worse conditions.

It was two hours before he spotted him. The tar – Bucky flinched away from the thought. _Steve_. His name was _Steve_. He wasn't a target.

_Steve_ wasn't paying attention to his surroundings, eyes on the ground in front of him, forcing people to dodge out of his way. It was a dangerous move – it would be too easy to sneak behind him and attack.

He saw the dark circles under his eyes and felt a twinge of guilt for the stress he'd put him through. "Punk," he said as Steve passed the alley.

Steve stopped short, causing a man behind him to crash into him. "Watch where you're going, asshole!" the man snapped.

It was a testament to how surprised he was that Steve didn't even apologize. His blue eyes snapped over to meet his, and a cautious smile spread across his mouth. In two strides he joined him in the shadows, slowly pulling his hands from his pockets to show that he was unarmed.

The move wasn't necessary – he could tell by his gait that he wasn't carrying any weapons.

"You're here…Bucky, you're…"

"I had some things to handle." Steve barked a bitter laugh.

"I know. You didn't make it hard to track you. I nearly had you in Bolivia."

"Lost ya though," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"Are you… do you…?" Steve motioned to his head.

"Yeah, I remember."

"Everything?"

"Most of it. There's still gaps."

Steve nodded and put his hands on his hips, glancing back towards the street. After a moment, he turned back, a determined look on his face. "You wanna come up? I've got some beers in the fridge."

OOO

The room had been on edge when Steve introduced him to the new team. Natalia had given him a self-satisfied smirk from where she sat next to a man studied him in intently. The others seemed to realize he wasn't comfortable with contact and did no more than nod as they were introduced.

Looking into the eyes of the man who had been made an orphan because of him had been the most difficult and tense moment. He wouldn't have done anything had Stark chosen to lash out at him, but he hadn't. The only quick movement he'd made was when the lithe redheaded woman standing close to him had taken a step closer. Stark had swept his arm out to keep her at a safe distance.

Steve had frowned at that, but he understood. He wasn't to be trusted. His hands were stained with too much blood.

"Bucky's – "

"James," he muttered, causing Steve to stop and look at him. "I'm not him anymore." Steve's eyes narrowed slightly before he nodded.

"He's staying with me for a while."

Back in the privacy of his rooms, Steve turned to him and said, "You're always gonna be Bucky to me."

OOO

He kept to himself for the most part, venturing into the common areas only when no one was likely to be there. Steve encouraged him to talk to Sam, who was some kind of head shrink, but he didn't.

It was bad enough reliving his memories in dreams, he didn't want to talk about them.

The days bled into weeks and Steve rarely left him alone. He spent a lot of time on the phone with a woman named Sharon.

"She's Peggy's grand-niece," Steve said, his fingers straying to rub where his words were. The pain in his eyes was obvious; after he'd gone down, Peggy had though her soul mate had died and, after a long time, had moved on and lived a happy life with another man. Steve swore up and down that he was happy for her, but anyone who looked at him could see the regret he felt for the life with her that he'd lost. "She was undercover, assigned to look after me."

"That didn't cause any issues?" James asked, to which Steve shrugged.

"Not when I found out who she was," he chuckled around the rim of his beer bottle before shrugging. "She's a friend, that's all." His eyes drifted down to rest on James' wrist.

"You know Buck…you could still find them. Natasha found Clint…"

James drained his beer before shaking his head. "I'm not looking for 'em."

OOO

The army of Stark Industries lawyers had compiled a case explaining why he wasn't to be held accountable for his actions as the Winter Soldier.

James didn't agree. He may not have known the reasoning behind the orders, but he'd been the one pulling the trigger.

It took over a year of specialists debating his mental capacity, his human rights, the validity of the now public SHIELD database, and the legality of extradition requests before an agreement was made.

James Buchanan Barnes wouldn't be held accountable for the actions force upon him by the KGB and HYDRA. He was to be considered a prisoner of war and an American hero for his actions during World War II.

A press release went out the same day announcing his survival.

He drank until he passed out, muttering in Russian about how monsters couldn't be considered heroes.

OOO

Some things never changed, he mused while riding the elevator to the communal floor. Steve had been bad with leaving the tiniest amount of food left in a jar and putting it back in the pantry; it had made sense when they were scraping together the cash to buy a meal (usually damaged goods James got for cheap at the grocery store he worked at), but when they didn't have to worry as much, it was just an annoyance.

This time it was the milk.

As he stepped off the elevator, he paused upon hearing someone moving around. After a moment, he forced himself to keep moving – Steve's team didn't flinch away from him any more, and even Stark seemed to be coming around.

Except it wasn't anyone on the team.

The woman was pacing back and forth as she typed on her phone. She hadn't heard him enter the room, and she heard her huff loudly.

"The Prisoner's Dilemma! It's not a difficult concept, people, come on!"

James froze.

The woman turned and let out a soft gasp. "Oh, sorry, didn't realize anyone else was here." She lowered her phone and swiped away a lock of dark hair before giving him a soft smile. "I'm, uh, waiting for Jane. She and I are supposed to go to lunch together."

His heart was pounding and his human hand curled into a fist.

"I'm Darcy, by the way," she said, shifting her weight nervously. He watched as her eyes flickered to the elevator and then back down to her phone to check the time. She crossed her arms under her breasts and chewed her lower lip. "Um…"

They stared at one another for a long moment before he turned on his heel and strode to the elevator, pounding the down button, and darting inside as soon as the doors opened.

His metal hand moved to trace the scars on his wrist as he struggled to pull in a full breath.

No. Not now. Not ever.

_The Prisoner's Dilemma._


	2. Chapter 2

Darcy Lewis didn't believe in soul mates.

But it wasn't always that way.

OOO

Like all little girls, she'd grown up dreaming about the day she'd find her soul mate – she'd daydreamed about finding them in a downpour and they'd show up with an umbrella for her, or maybe she would catch their eye from across a crowded room and just _know_ even before they said their words. Darcy watched movies and devoured books, each adding a new scenario to just how she might meet them.

As she got older, she would spend a long time naked in front of the mirror just hoping that her mark would appear. Her best friend, Lindsay, was the first to have hers appear when they were in fourth grade and ran across the street to show Darcy.

"Look!" she said, twisting her leg to show the writing on her thigh. Darcy crouched down to get a better look and chuckled.

"Hey, throw it back?" Lindsay nodded dreamily.

"I wonder when I'm gonna meet them."

Two days later, she met her soul mate.

"That's him," Lindsay whispered, pointing to a boy across the cafeteria. He had spiky hair and braces, and kept glancing over at them. She blushed from head to toe and looked down at her lunch tray.

"Him?" Darcy asked, scrunching her nose. "Isn't he in sixth grade?"

"Yup. He nearly hit me with his football this morning."

"And he has your words?"

"Uh huh," Lindsay nodded and drew a line over her heart. "Right here - 'Watch it, jerk face'."

"Wow," Darcy said, putting her chin in her hand and looking over at the boy. "You're so lucky."

OOO

"It's not fair!" Darcy whined.

"Really, Darcy Ann," her mother scolded. "There's nothing strange about it not showing up yet – you're just a late bloomer."

"But all the other girls in gym have theirs," she sulked. More than once she'd found herself glancing over at the other girls, envious of the marks that decorated their bodies. "I'm thirteen for Christ's sake!"

"Language, young lady!" Her mother sighed and leaned across the counter to tip Darcy's chin up. "I didn't get my mark until I was fifteen, and I found your father just fine. You'll get yours and you'll find them, honey, you just have to be patient."

"Fine," Darcy sighed.

"Hey Karen, what are we having for dinner?" her dad asked as he stepped into the kitchen.

"I swear, Dave, you're memory's getting worse with every day – we're having pork chops and homemade apple sauce." Looking back at Darce, Karen rolled her eyes, "After you find them, you have to be patient with them."

OOO

"MOM!"

There was a thud and then loud pounding before Darcy's bedroom door was thrown open. "What? What's wrong?" her mother panted.

"Darce?" her father demanded, coming to a stop behind Karen.

"Look!" Darcy pulled up her shirt. Just below her ribs, written in her skin, was 'You're not what I expected'.

She was three months from her fourteenth birthday.

OOO

High school was hell.

Like her mark, puberty seemed to hit Darcy overnight. She'd left eighth grade with smaller breasts and the beginning of hips, only to enter high school breasts that rivaled some of the senior girls and didn't stop there.

Lindsay told her not to pay attention to the boys that open leered at her in the hallways. After the first few times of being sent to the principal's office for dress code violations, Darcy started to keep a change of clothes in her locker before starting to wear baggy sweatshirts year round. Gym class was terrible because even wearing two sports bras did little to keep her chest from moving.

Joey – Lindsay's soul mate and a junior – actually got into a fistfight with a guy that had been harassing her and spent a week in detention. Darcy's dad invited him over for a steak dinner for that.

On bad nights, she would look at herself in the mirror and wonder what would make her soul mate say those words. What about her was what he didn't expect? Did he think she'd be skinnier? Smarter? Someone with less of a mouth?

But still, she kept her ears open for those five words, hoping beyond hope that she'd hear them.

OOO

A month after graduating high school, Darcy stood beside Lindsay as she said 'I do' to Joey.

In August, she and her mother spent two days packing and repacking the cars. Culver University was only a few hours from home but there hadn't been a discussion of Darcy going by herself.

"Don't tell your mother," her dad said, handing her a small box. Darcy raised an eyebrow at the taser inside.

OOO

College was everything Darcy hoped it would be. She spent her freshman year without a major but had narrowed it down to History, Philosophy, Political Science, and English. Her roommate – a business major – pulled her out to nightclubs where Darce would sneak drinks and dance the nights away. She tailgated and went to football games, snuck into her dorm drunk off her ass, partied at fraternities and sororities, and fell in love.

They met in class – American National Government – when he asked to borrow a pen for the attendance sheet. They paired up to study for the first test and spent hours holed up in the library with flashcards and coffee, pouring over their notes.

Brad kissed her during one of their all-nighters.

It wasn't the all consuming love that Darcy had dreamed about as a little girl, but it was more than she'd felt for the few boys she'd dated during high school. Brad would come to her dorm room and watch movies with her before going to the cafeteria for ice cream. After the first big snow fall, they stole trays to go sledding down the main hill on campus and made a snowman and snow angels. When her roommate went home for the weekend, they had sex for the first time.

In their sophomore year, Darcy chose Political Science and Brad found his soul mate.

OOO

Her parents hated Rob after he took her to a political rally. Things had got out of hand and Darcy ended up with a sprained ankle after running from the cops.

Things ended when Darcy got fed up with him being high all the time.

OOO

"She's so gorgeous, Linds," Darcy cooed as she cradled her goddaughter.

"She is pretty amazing," Lindsey smiled tiredly. Joey was beaming; his eyes locked on his daughter as he lazily stroked his wife's shoulder. When she turned to look at him, he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"She's perfect," he said softly.

Darcy looked away and tried to stifle the twinge of jealousy she felt.

OOO

"You are living in sin!" the preacher yelled, holding his Bible aloft. "You flaunt God's plan for you when you choose extramarital sex!"

"Oh god," Darcy groaned, rolling her eyes as she passed the free speech zone on her way to the library. There was a relatively small group of people standing around, some nodding along with the man but most mocking him. A bored looking security officer stood nearby to make sure things didn't get out of hand, and another guy had a camera trained on the crowd.

"The Bible says that Woman was made for Man in Romans one, and her natural purpose is to bear children."

"What about women who can't have children?" a girl yelled back. "Or they don't want them?"

"They should dedicate themselves to being brides of Christ, or celibate."

"So you're saying that I should be a nun, or just never have sex?" the girl asked, disbelief coloring her voice. "Respectfully, fuck that!" There was a round of cheering, which the preacher ignored.

"God has chosen the perfect mate for you!" the preacher said, rolling up his sleeve and showing his soul mark. "In his infinite love, God has made the man or woman to complete you – he has created Adam for you, Eve – "

"It's not God doing it!" a student yelled back. His arms were crossed over his chest and his face was flushed. "It's brain chemistry and biology – not God."

"What about the homosexuals? And the bisexuals?" a girl asked. "And the asexuals? Did God make their soul mates? 'Cause you were just saying that homosexuality was a sin."

"Man shall not lay with man as he lay with woman."

"Well that doesn't exactly apply because my soul mate and I are lesbians," another girl quipped, wrapping her arm around the girl next to her who blushed.

OOO

"So what are you writing?"

Darcy looked up from her laptop and pushed her glasses further up her nose. "A paper for my philosophy class."

"What's the topic?" her mom asked.

"Soul mates." Raising an eyebrow, Karen finished checking the Thanksgiving turkey and took off her oven mitts before resting her hip against the counter.

"And what's your argument?"

"I don't think they're real."

"Oh?"

"I just…" Darce shrugged. "I don't think one person can be all things to another person."

Smiling slightly, her mother checked the kitchen timer. "Okay, so what makes you think that?"

"There's…so you dated before Dad, right?"

"Yeah."

"Didn't one of those guys make you feel something? Like you could have been happy with them even if they weren't your soul mate?"

"Of course I did," Karen shrugged. "But in the back of my mind, I always knew your dad was out there and that he would be the yin to my yang." Darcy rolled her eyes even as she fought a smile.

"But why? Why would you choose to leave someone you're happy with for the possibility of being happy with someone else?" Darcy asked. "Like, it's expected that you drop everything and get together with the person as soon as you hear your words. But what if you're really, really happy with someone else?"

"So you're saying that soul mates don't allow for free will?" Karen frowned.

"I…kind of?"

Her mother just gave her a knowing smile and shook her head, leaning over to take her daughter's hand. "Here's what you're not realizing: your soul mate, they're going to be put you before themselves. So if you're with someone else and you're really happy with them, then your soul mate can wait."

"But you still have to go with them in the end," Darce argued.

"It's not that you have to," her mother countered, "it's that you'll want to."

OOO

Darcy looked at the email and felt her jaw drop. Her application for graduation had been declined.

Six credits.

"So you have a couple of options," her advisor said. "It's too late to add a course to your schedule for this semester, but you can take two science classes over the summer or can take the classes in the fall."

"I can't be here in the fall! I got accepted into law school!"

"Okay, so we'll focus on the summer classes then."

"But isn't it harder to get financial aid during the summer?" Darcy asked.

"Unfortunately. There is another option, though. How do you feel about an internship?"

OOO

"You're going to New Mexico?"

"Yeah. It was that or taking Chemistry and Biology together for the whole summer."

"Good call kid."

"Thanks, Dad."

OOO

Chemistry and biology might have been easier than dealing with Dr. Jane Foster.

"Go to New Mexico and do some stargazing, Darcy, it'll be fun!" she muttered while inputting data into an Excel sheet. Sighing, she straightened up and rolled her neck before grabbing her empty coffee mug and going for another round of liquid energy.

"I need you to help me load up the van as soon as you're done with that spreadsheet," Jane said as she waltzed past with bundle of wires in her arms.

"Yeah, yeah, almost done," Darce nodded. She had thought that she could handle the all-nighters required when working for an astrophysicists – after all, she'd done a lot of them while studying – but this was getting ridiculous. Coffee. Coffee was a necessity. Except for the pot was empty…again. "Seriously Jane? Seriously?"

OOO

So things didn't work out the way she though they would.

What was supposed to be an easy internship ended up being something that she'd never forget…but could never talk about.

After the robot rampage through Puerto Antiguo and Thor went back to confront his brother, Jane became even more manic about work. SHIELD swooped in with their non-disclosure forms and offered her assistance in her research, bringing in people that actually understood what the hell she was studying.

For once, Jane leaned on Darcy for more than her typing and editing skills. They sat on the rooftop and talked about Thor, Lady Sif, and the Warriors Three, and how everything was different now that aliens actually existed. The fact that Jane's soul mate was a one of those aliens, and that they'd been separated – for who knows how long – had understandably upset her.

Darcy fell asleep with her hand over her words, wondering how she would react when faced with the same situation. It wasn't like Thor was dead, so Jane didn't feel like she could move on, but he wasn't there for her to be with. Darcy's mom had said that, once you found your soul mate, you never wanted to leave their side. She had read stories about people whose soul mates had died and the emotional agony of knowing that your perfect match was gone.

So she cut her some slack, didn't say anything when Jane yelled at her or muttered under her breath about how Darcy had done the calculations wrong. (Not everyone needed to take advanced calculus, Jane, some people were perfectly fine taking College Algebra and Statistics – and it was pretty damn impressive that she took the initiative to even learn some calculus.)

When the summer was over, Jane filled out the internship evaluation form and sent it off to Culver, and Darcy flew back to Virginia to graduate. She also had to tell her parents about a difficult decision she'd come to in the last few days.

Rather than packing up and moving to New York City to attend Columbia law school, Darcy packed up her small apartment and went back to New Mexico.

Taking some time off of school wasn't a bad thing, she'd told her confused but supportive parents. She had a paid position – granted, not in a field she was interested or qualified for – but it would give her some time to think and figure out her next step.

OOO

The travel was an added benefit. SHIELD sent them to Norway to work with a high-powered telescope.

New York City was attacked, and her parents called to express their relief that she'd decided against going to Columbia.

OOO

Things with Jane got worse, but Darcy chose to stick it out. Living in a flat in London with Jane's mom wasn't ideal, but it gave her a chance to network with some nongovernmental organizations in the city. She spent her nights looking at internship opportunities and what it would take to get a work visa.

The stress of looking after Jane and Erik was getting to her, and adding Ian Boothby to the mix didn't make things easier. He was able to help out with the science parts of Jane's research but Darcy had to run interference to make sure that nothing under the NDAs came out and to keep Jane's mother happy. Jane snapped at her more often than not and Darcy spent a lot of time walking around to calm down rather than screaming back at her boss.

Her parents suggested coming home and looking for a job in the US, but Darcy wanted to give living overseas another shot.

At least until Thor came back and the attack in Greenwich.

With the flat already crowded and Darcy was feeling particularly under appreciated, so she booked a ticket home.

OOO

Working retail wasn't ideal. Living with her parents wasn't ideal.

But it gave her a chance to save up some money and pay back a bit of those student loans.

At the end of February, she got an email saying she'd been accepted into George Washington University's Political Science department, where she'd study comparative politics and international relations.

OOO

Darcy loved graduate school. Being around people who understood the importance of looking at the world and not just what it was composed of was amazing. She loved her professors and classmates, and while teaching wasn't something she had a lot of experience with, it was something she was growing to enjoy. Even after SHIELD collapsed and nearly took out half of the nation's capital in its wake, DC was a nice place to live.

While she appreciated the letter of recommendation Jane wrote her, they didn't really keep in touch. She knew that Jane and Thor had relocated to New York, so when she traveled up to the city for a conference, Darcy shot her a text and suggested grabbing lunch.

The highlight of that had been seeing the inside of Avengers Tower. Jane had never left the lab and Thor was off planet so Darcy had ended up walking around the city by herself and doing the tourist thing.

All in all, not a bad trip.

OOO

Her undergrad Intro to International Relations class had just let out, and she was pulling her jump drive from the computer when she heard the door open. Another class came in right after hers let out so she didn't think anything of it.

Sliding the memory stick into her pocket, she turned her attention to the papers stacked on the front table. Darcy was straightening them out with the student spoke.

"You're not what I expected."

Her hands froze.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>I apologize to those I offended with the campus preacher part, but that's something that's pretty common on college campuses. A majority of the dialogue came from a video I found on YouTube. As for Jane and Darcy's relationship? I've had a few long conversations with pizzagirl about how Jane was pretty rude to Darcy in both Thor movies, and I kind of subscribe to the idea that they wouldn't have kept in touch/been best friends. That's not to say I don't love Jane because I do! I just think her and Darcy and two entirely different personalities who probably wouldn't mix.

Also, thank you so much for the support!


	3. Chapter 3

Darcy only realized that she'd stopped breathing when her lungs screamed for oxygen.

Slowly, she raised her eyes to look at the man standing in front of her. "Excuse me?"

"You're not what I expected." James watched as she hugged the papers to her chest like a shield to protect her. Her eyes darted over him, taking in the baseball cap and sweatshirt he wore before meeting his gaze. She tilted her head to the side while narrowing her eyes.

"You're the guy from Avengers Tower… weeks ago." He shifted his weight (something he had to remember to do – being too still made people nervous) and jerked a nod.

"What's the prisoner's dilemma?"

"The Prisoner's Dilemma?" she frowned. "It's a game theory concept."

"Game theory?"

"It's…" she raised an eyebrow. "Why does it matter?" James didn't say anything but fixed her with a blank stare. "That doesn't intimidate me, you know. I just taught a class where half of my students looked like that."

The corner of his mouth twitched as though he was fighting a smile. She raised an eyebrow before setting the papers back down and walking back to the lectern, pulling open a drawer and retrieving a marker. When she flipped a switch on the wall, the screen rose up into the ceiling to reveal a white board. "I'll make you a deal," she said. "You tell me your name and why you didn't say anything when I saw you in the first place, and I'll tell you what the Prisoner's Dilemma is. Deal?"

Something flashed in his eyes as he gave her an appraising look. The silence between them stretched until she rolled her eyes. "Look, I don't have all day. There's another class coming in and I've got shit I need to do before I have class tonight. So are you going to tell me your name or not?"

He still didn't say anything. Darcy huffed and rolled her eyes. "Dinner."

"Dinner?" she snorted. "Your name is Dinner?"

Licking his lips, he shook his head. He'd been good at this before…a long time ago, or at least that's what Steve had told him. "No. I want an answer and to take you for dinner. For telling you my name and…why…"

"Not doing dinner, sorry, but I just met you, so no – plus, I have class until 8:00 tonight and a shit ton of work to do. But we can grab a quick cup of coffee."

He felt a sense of relief at her shooting down dinner. It had been Steve's idea; he'd wanted for him to actually give the girl a chance before walking away. 'You owe her that at least,' he'd said. It wasn't until she was looking at him over the rims of her glasses that he realized he'd lapsed into silence again.

"James…my name's James."

"Darcy Lewis," she said before uncapping the marker and drawing a two-by-two grid. But when she raised her arm to start labeling the axis, she paused and turned to face him again, frowning this time. "James? As in…are you… Bucky Barnes?"

"James," he said, his voice firmer. "I'm not him."

"But you are, though, aren't you?" she said, stepping away from the board and looking at him more closely. "I used you as a case study in one of my papers about human rights violations and international norms – "

"I'm not him. He's gone."

"Okay," Darcy said, stretching out the 'O'. When there was a sound behind him, her eyes looked past James as he slowly turned to look over his shoulder. A boy was walking down the steps of the classroom, glancing at the two of them before settling in an empty seat halfway down. Her eyes moved to meet James's again before she turned and started to erase her grid.

"But – "

"I don't need to illustrate the concept," she said shortly. He watched as she pulled on her coat and backpack, the fabric over her breasts stretching tightly as she untucked her hair. They walked side-by-side up the steps and emerged into the hallway where he followed her. "Coffee, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," she nodded, steering him towards the door.

"The Prisoner's Dilemma?"

There was a soft sigh, and he turned to look at her as she readjusted her glasses. "Like I said, it's a game theory concept – one that I hate, by the way, because everyone thinks if you get that one you're a god at game theory when you're just scratching the surface – but anyways. Basically you have these parties who are set up to either help or hurt each other, and it all depends on if they cooperate or not." Darcy looked over at him and saw his raised eyebrow. "You've seen Law and Order, right?"

"No."

Darcy actually stopped walking and gaped up at him. "What? You don't watch Law and Order? Everyone watches one of them! Personally, I like SVU better but I don't fault people that like the original."

A smirk tugged at the corner of James's mouth. "Don't watch much television."

"That's a crime," she sighed again, waving a hand as she started to walk again. "Anyways, you can imagine a police interrogation, right?"

Vividly, he though, remembering the interrogation he'd gone through with SHIELD after turning himself in. He grunted an answer rather than saying that, though.

"Ok, so lets imagine that you and I rob a bank because I'm a poor grad student and you need new clothes." The gentle teasing has him almost smiling again. "Because we're terrible bank robbers, we get caught."

"We wouldn't," James interrupted. "I'd make sure we didn't." When she smiled, he couldn't help but notice how pretty she was. It wasn't an overpowering, star-striking kind of beauty but the comfortable in her skin type. And the fact that she had curves for days unlike a lot of the women today was something he really appreciated.

"You'd get us out of there with your super ninja skills?"

He flexed his bionic hand, the metal hidden by a glove, and shrugged. "Something like that."

Chuckling, she waved another hand. "For argument's sake, they catch us and put us in separate interrogation rooms. And before we went all Bonnie and Clyde, we agreed not to sell each other out. But then this really hot detective comes in and tells me that I'll be able to walk out of there if I pin the whole thing on you, and a hot detective tells you the same thing about pinning it on me. So those are the best personal options. And let's say we're both idiots and crappy co-conspirators, so we cave and both get screwed over because those damn cops tricked us and we get thrown into jail. The last option is that we both stay quiet and recognize that we'd suck in jail and probably be people's bitches – " another smile crossed her lips, "and because the cops have no evidence, we walk out of there to roll in the piles of our ill-begotten money."

"Oh."

"Yeah. So…uh," she seemed to lose her steam as she ended the lesson. "Long story short? Don't sell me out and we'll both walk out of the precinct very rich. Cooperation over being a tool every time."

The conversation had kept them busy as they walked through campus to the coffee shop. He opened the door for her; a warm burst of air heavy with the scent of coffee rushing out the ruffle their hair. There was a low rumble of conversation around them, and they stood in silence while looking at the board to figure out their order, shuffling along with the queue. When the silence stretched too long, though, he saw her start to shift and fidget.

"Can I see them?"

"See what?" James asked.

"Your words." He looked at her for a moment before pulling up the sleeve of his sweater and presenting his wrist to her. She looks shyly up at him through her eyelashes before reaching out to hold his wrist between her hands, fingers stroking the scars criss-crossing his skin and the mangled, indecipherable words. Her face was pale, her pink lips rolled together, when she looked up to meet his gaze again.

"Next!"

Darcy dropped his hand in shock before hurrying to the available barista, James drifting behind her. She quickly gave her order and shook her head when the man asked if she and James' order was together.

OOO

It wasn't until they'd found an empty bench some distance away from the coffee shop that they spoke again. Darcy had her legs cross under her and was cradling the paper cup of coffee somewhat reverently as she blew to cool it down, her long hair curling in her face.

"What are you studying?" James asked. Darcy looked at him before taking a tentative sip of her drink.

"I'm working on a PhD in Political Science." James's eyebrow twitched slightly before he took a sip of his coffee.

"Oh."

"What?" she pushed.

"Nothing. Just…" he shrugged. "I didn't…"

"Didn't expect me to be smart?" Her sarcastic tone almost masked the hurt in her voice, as did the hard set of her eyebrows, but James had been trained to see past that. "Driven? Wanting to do something with my life?"

"No." Her face flushed and he realized what he said. "No wait, that's not what I meant. You're…Dr. Foster…"

"Oh," she said, nodding. "Right. You know Jane. So she probably gave you a super flattering description of me and you made the assumption that I'm an idiot because I don't understand astrophysics and – "

"No," James snapped, his eyes flashing dangerously. Darcy stopped talking, edging away from him on the bench. Her eyes shot to the bag at her feet and then glanced at her wrist.

"Well, I really have to be – "

"Wait," he sighed, reaching out to stop her before thinking better of it. She flinched slightly as his hand rested on her wrist. He could see a flicker of confusion at the glove and how his hand felt different from flesh and bone. "I'm sorry." She was quiet for a long moment, still looking slightly skittish. "You said you know about me…what I…what happened."

"A bit," she said wearily.

He gave her a humorless smile and shook back the sleeve of his hand, showing her his marked wrist again. "You're not what I expected because of this." Darcy shifted her coffee to one hand and hesitantly reached out to touch the scars with her warm fingers.

"What were they?"

"The Prisoner's Dilemma." He heard her soft inhalation and gave her a minute to collect herself before looking up. "It's not you that surprised me. It's what you said."

"Which is why you didn't say anything at the Tower," Darcy said quietly. Her blue eyes slowly moved from his wrist to meet his, and he nodded. Rolling her lips together, she looked down at her coffee while her fingers absentmindedly stroked the scars.

"I'm sorry."

Frowning, Darcy's attention snapped back to him. "Don't. Apparently we're both pretty awesome at giving the other complexes."

"Huh?"

Her hand moved to touch just under her ribs and smirked, "Having 'you're not what I expected' isn't exactly confidence inspiring when your growing up. Not that, you know," her face flushed, "having 'The Prisoner's Dilemma' isn't any better. Sorry 'bout that, by the way." Cradling her coffee again, she leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees and let her hair hang in her face.

"I probably could have picked better words," James said, smirking slightly. "Sorry about the complex."

"What's a little emotional torture as a child?" she waved off his apology. Unfolding her legs, she pulled a phone from her pocket and checked the time before sighing. "Look, I need to be upfront with you – I'm not looking to jump into this," she said, gesturing between them. "Just because we have each other's words doesn't mean that we're 'soul mates'." He nearly smiled at her one-handed air quote. "So if that's what you're looking for, I think fate saddled you with the wrong girl."

James studied her again before giving her a wry smile. "I think fate did pretty well – I'm not looking for a soul mate, now or ever."

Her eyebrows raised but she smiled. "This arrangement? I'm good with it."

"Yeah?" he asked, a bit surprised by the lack of a fight.

"Dude, Team Free Will here – not really much for being forced into anything."

Chuckling, James shook his head. "Can I get that in writing? Steve's not gonna believe me."

"Steve? Wait, you mean Captain America?"

"Yeah. He's been after me to come talk to you."

"Hang on," she said, shoving her coffee into his hand and digging through her bag for her wallet. After retrieving her coffee receipt and a pen, she quickly scribbled something and signed it with a flourish before handing it to him.

"'I, Darcy Ann Lewis, of sound mind and free will let James Barnes off the hook for any 'soul mate' responsibilities. Team free will!'" he read, cocking an eyebrow. "This might do it."

"Well, if it doesn't, give me a call and I'll tell him. We can Facetime if he still doesn't believe it's me."

"I'd need your number to do that," James smirked.

"Well, since you found out where I go to school, I don't think getting my number would be that much more difficult." With a wink, Darcy stood and swung her bag onto her shoulder before holding out a hand for her coffee. "It was nice meeting you, James Barnes."

"It was nice meeting you too, Darcy Lewis," he replied, handing her the coffee. With a wave, she turned and walked away.

OOO

It was nearly 11 o'clock, and Darcy was still working in her office when her text alert sounded, interrupting her music. Sighing, she rubbed her eyes and adjusted her ear buds before grabbing the phone.

_You're right, it wasn't hard getting your number._

Laughing, Darcy opened the text and typed her response.

_Ok, so I won't doubt your super ninja skills when we rob the bank._

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Hey guys, so sorry for the delay! Real life political science-ing got in the way and cut down on my writing time. I hope this was worth the wait. As always, thanks for reading and please let me know what you think =)


	4. Chapter 4

Steve Rogers wasn't even sure if he wanted a soul mate.

Not because he didn't want to have someone to love, but because he didn't want someone to hurt when he died. He'd been a sickly kid, catching every cold and flu that went around the neighborhood. With his asthma and heart murmur, he knew that it was just a matter of time until he kicked the bucket.

Whatever made the words appear seemed to be holding off on deciding if he would get a soul mate. His ma told him not to worry, that they'd appear in their own time, but he could see how anxious it made her.

He saw how much she missed her soul mate, how losing him to the War had devastated her. And he didn't want to do that to someone else.

OOO

Bucky Barnes was his best friend. He didn't find it strange that, at fifteen, Steve's words hadn't showed up. He didn't laugh when he caught Steve writing phrases on his wrist, wishing they would sink into his skin and become permanent.

"Couldn't just leave it alone, could ya?" Bucky grunted while wiping a hand under his bloody nose.

Steve was bent in half with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath after a few gut punches. "You shoulda seen her face, Buck," he said, reaching up to brush away the hair hanging in his eyes. "He wasn't takin' no for an answer and – "

"And you wanted to be her white knight," Bucky rolled his eyes.

"It wasn't that! It's just…"

"At least nothing's broken this time. Come on," he said, pushing off the wall and clapping a hand onto Steve's shoulder. "We should try and clean up before the cops get here. Last thing we need is to get caught. My hand already hurts enough, and I don't feel like getting a knuckle rappin' from the nuns."

"Alright," Steve sighed, grimacing as he stood up straight. He pressed his right arm tightly around his stomach, stepping out of the Buck's grasp.

"Steve –"

"'m fine, Buck." When he didn't let go, he tried to shake off his hand. "Bucky, come on!"

"Steve, look!" Bucky grabbed Steve's left arm and held it up. There, written into his skin, was 'Gentlemen, I am Agent Carter'.

OOO

It took a minute for Steve to realize that it had happened, but when the words seeped into his brain, he did a double take.

She was a stunner. And fearless. And smart as a whip.

Steve kept the knowledge to himself for the next day or two until he was summoned to Agent Carter's office for an evaluation. There was never a moment to speak to her so he hadn't had to worry about her finding out.

She was seated at her desk, her attention on the file in her hand and a pencil between her teeth when he knocked on her door and peeked his head in. Her eyes stayed on her papers as she waved him in.

"I believe you were looking for me, Ma'am?"

"Hmm?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she finally looked at him.

"I…er…I was told to see you – to come here," he corrected, reaching up to wipe away the hair from his face. She studied him for a moment before removing the pencil between her teeth.

"Right, have a seat," she said, motioning to the two paper-filled chairs in front of her desk. He shifted some of the paper and sat while Agent Carter scribbled something in the file before closing it and wiped a smear of red lipstick from pencil. Her eyes flickered to him briefly before she reached for another file and opened it, settling back in her chair. "Steven Grant Rogers of Brooklyn?"

"Yes ma'am," he nodded. "That'd be me." Steve watched as she looked through his file, the corner of her mouth fighting a smile every once in a while. "Ma'am, I feel that I should tell you – " he started but stopped when she raised a finger to silence him.

"You have no family listed as your next of kin."

"No, my parents passed already. I wanted to put Bucky but – "

"Bucky?" she asked.

"We grew up together…He's the closest I have to family."

"And Mr. Bucky, is he still in Brooklyn?"

"No, he's on his way to England."

"Ah," she nodded. "And does he know that you've volunteered for this procedure?"

"No," Steve smiled wryly. "He'd kill me if he knew." Again, Agent Carter studied him before allowing a small smile to cross her lips.

"In situations such as this, my name would be put as your next of kin – "

"Your name?"

"However, given the circumstances, I would prefer to keep our relationship quiet. I've worked very hard to get to where I am, and I don't want to be forced to the sideline because of this new development."

Steve felt his jaw drop a little as he realized what she was saying. "You know?"

"Private," she sighed, standing slowly to lean across her desk. "There's little that goes on at this instillation that I don't know about. I've known about you from the moment Dr. Erskine picked you for this experiment."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"I could say the same to you," Agent Carter said, nodding towards his forearm. He pulled it closer to his body, studying her with a slight smile. Catching on, she rolled her lips together in an attempt to keep from smiling but he caught the subtle lip twitch.

OOO

"That's her?" Bucky asked as Peggy left the medical tent.

"That's her," Steve nodded. He smiled when Peggy pushed back the tent flap and turned to look back at them.

"She's…Wow."

"Yeah. But you can't tell anyone about her and me."

"Huh?" Buck asked.

"We're keeping it professional. Wouldn't want people to think…"

"Gotcha."

OOO

The sound of heels clicking was the only warning Steve got before a hand closed around his arm. "This plan is suicidal," Peggy hissed, glancing around the hallway before pulling them into a file room.

"It has to be done," Steve said, squaring his jaw.

"I understand that. All I'm asking is that you give this more thought – you're a strategist! There has to be a better way of getting Schmidt."

"There's not." Peggy sighed and reached up to cup his face but hesitated, letting her hand fall back to her side.

"I know you're upset about Barnes –"

"Bucky is – was," he nearly choked on the word, "my best friend."

"I know," she said, taking his clenched fist and uncurling his fingers. She threaded hers through fingers through his, squeezing softly. "And I also know he wouldn't want you to throw your life away to avenge his death. All I'm asking is for you to take some time, to think this mission over before you leave."

A sad smile tugged on the corner of Steve's mouth as he pulled her closer, gently shaking off her hand and wrapping his arms around her waist. Peggy made a soft noise of protest before allowing herself to mold against him. He tasted the wax of her lipstick when he pressed his lips to hers; he could feel the tension in drain out of her body as her hands skated up his chest to grip the lapels of his jacket. They were always so careful about these stolen moments, both aware of what being caught could do to Peggy's career, but they'd managed a handful of rendezvous every time he was on base.

"I'll be careful," he promised, resting his forehead against hers as they broke apart to breathe.

"You'd better," she warned, fingers stroking her words on his arm.

OOO

"She should be back in a minute," the nurse said, gesturing for him to enter the room. Steve nodded his thanks to the woman before stepping inside, shifting the bouquet of flowers from one hand to the other.

He crossed the room to look out the window, admiring the view her room gave her. Steve smiled at how much natural light there was, remembering how much she had hated underground War Room in London.

"-niece said that she'd be coming by soon," a woman's voice said.

"Soon is a relative term when it comes to my family." Steve turned away from the window and swallowed hard; he'd recognize that voice anywhere.

"Stop," the first voice chuckled. "You know they'd be here more often if they could."

"Professional hazard," Peggy said as she was wheeled into her room. She gave a soft gasp at seeing him there.

"Sir? Are you supposed to be in here?" Steve opened his mouth to say something but couldn't force the words out around the lump in his throat. His eyes darted across her face, recognizing the woman he'd dreamed about spending the rest of his life with. Time hadn't dulled her beauty or her sharp eyes. They stared at one another for a long moment before the nurse spoke again. "Mrs. Falsworth, do you know this man?"

Startled from her reverie, Peggy nodded. "Yes…Yes, he's just surprised me with how late he is."

"S-sorry," Steve said after clearing his throat. "The flight was hell."

OOO

There was some consolation in knowing that Peggy'd had a good life. After his plane had gone down, she'd worked with Howard Stark and Dum Dum Dugan to build up SHIELD. She'd told him about those early days as they'd sat in the conservatory, enjoying the warmth and smell of damp earth. Steve had held her hand the entire time, running his thumb over the thin, soft skin of her hands. With her silver hair floating on her shoulders, it was easy to imagine that this is what they had been headed for, what they could have looked forward to during their twilight years if fate hadn't intervened.

But there had been a moment's hesitation as she looked at him again, the smile fading from her lips after he'd gone to retrieve the blanket she'd asked for. "Steve?" she said.

"Hmm?" he asked while draping the blanket across her lap. Her hand closed around his wrist, making him meet her gaze. "What is it, Peggy?"

"You're…you're alive?" she asked, a hint of a sob coloring her voice. Steve frowned, crouching in front of her wheelchair.

"Yeah," he nodded, taking both of her hands in his. "I made it."

"H-how?" Peggy chocked out, shaking off his hold to reach up and cup his cheek.

"I don't know. SHIELD found me…remember? We talked about this earlier."

"We looked for you, all of us. We – "

"Peggy, I know," Steve said as she weakly clutched at his jacket. "I know you did everything you could."

"It's been so long," she said. "You haven't changed at all. You're still my handsome Captain."

"Sir?" one of the nurses said, looking over Peggy's shoulder. "I think Mrs. Falsworth should rest now."

Peggy pulled her hands away from him quickly and sat back in her chair. "I'll expect that report from you first thing in the morning, Captain," she said.

"Report?" he asked, confused at the turn of conversation.

"Yes…Colonel Phillips is very adamant about having your debriefing."

"Phillips?"

"Ms. Carter?" the nurse said, drawing Peggy's attention. "Dinner is waiting for you in your room. Your friend's stayed long past visiting hours."

"The report, Captain?" Peggy asked, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"I'll…I'll have it for you first thing."

It was called sun downing, the nurse explained after Peggy had been settled back into her room. She'd be lucid one moment and then a switch would flip, and she'd be back in the 40s, striding the halls of the SSR base and helping to organize troop movements, or wondering where her husband and children had gotten to.

There was nothing they could do to help his girl…nothing but be there for her and make sure she was comfortable.

OOO

Steve was tracking Bucky through Russia. He was staying in a dingy hotel, trying to wash off the sweat, dust, and disgust of seeing one of HYDRA's recalibration rooms when he noticed it.

The words on his arm, once boldly black, had faded to a lighter grey.

He felt numb as he scrubbed, confident that it was just dirt that was obscuring them – some soap would bring them back to their vibrant black. When it didn't, he doubled over, water pounding his back and dripping down his face as he heaved, spitting bile into the bottom of the tub.

It wasn't happening.

Four hours later, there was a knock on his hotel door. He didn't move from his spot on the bed, didn't stop rubbing the reddened skin on his arm. When the door swung open, he didn't budge.

Natasha sat beside him. "Sharon called. She went peacefully."

That night he did his damndest to get drunk. Natasha had enough sense to leave him to his grief.

OOO

Things got a bit better when Bucky came in. Having his best friend back after everything they'd been through had been more than Steve could have hoped for.

It wasn't easy, by any means. There were nights when they woke one another up screaming, where they had to physically restrain one another. Steve's new team cast worried looks at the healing bruises they both sported in the mornings. He and Buck spent weekends patching up drywall after Tony made a loud comment about the holes when he dropped in to discuss their latest mission.

But it was worth it. And nothing could convince Steve differently.

OOO

He was pacing their living room when Steve stepped out his room, rubbing a towel through his hair. His mechanical arm whirled as he clenched his fist, eyes fixed on the ground.

"You okay, Buck?" His eyes darted up to meet his before flickering away. "What happened?"

Buck opened his mouth slightly before clenching his jaw. There were times when he still had issues with talking – knowing that he had the freedom to speak without needing permission – but usually only when he felt anxiety. Steve watched as he clutched his wrist, the metal fingers stroking the scarred flesh there. They stood in silence for a long moment before Steve raised his eyebrows, trying to goad Buck into speaking.

"I…she…"

"She?" Steve asked. Buck swiped a hand down his face, his frustration at his lack of words evident in his expression as he clutched his wrist again.

And then it dawned on him.

Steve grinned, "She's here? Your soul mate?" What little color was left in Bucky's face drained as he nodded. "That's great! Where is she? Who is she? What's her name?"

Again, Buck opened his mouth to push out words that wouldn't come.

"Is she here?" he asked. Bucky's face flushed as he ducked his head, shaking it slightly. "Bucky," Steve sighed, exasperation seeping into his voice. "You just left her?"

They stared at each other again before Buck grit his teeth and forced the words out. "I told you," he growled, "I don't want her."

"That's not…that doesn't…she deserves to know," he shot back. "It's her life too."

"She's better off without me. She's a civilian, Steve."

"It doesn't matter. She's been waiting for you and you just left her – what were you thinking? She knows it's you!"

"No she doesn't," Buck said quietly. "I didn't say anything to her."

"You…" he breathed. "Buck…"

"I don't want her words! She deserves better than me!" he screamed; Steve felt himself getting angry.

"It's not your choice now, Buck. She should get a say."

"You don't get it!" he screamed, his fists balling and something dangerous flashing in his eyes. Steve forced himself not to shift into a defensive stance. Through grit teeth, Buck forced out, "I'm…not…good."

The anger slipped away as Steve felt himself sag; they'd had this argument so many times already. No matter how many times he tried to tell him that he wasn't responsible for what HYDRA made him do – he was a victim as much as anybody – Bucky wouldn't believe him. He had to fight the urge to walk over and hug him, knowing that touching at this point might end up in broken bones, but it was a near loss.

"You're the best man I know, Buck," he said quietly. "And she'd be lucky to have ya."

OOO

With some help from JARVIS, Steve was able to figure out exactly who Bucky's soul mate was. The AI ran a search for any information on her, and Steve was surprised to hear that she'd been included in the SHIELD database that had been released onto the Internet.

He was perusing her file when he came across an interesting name that pull him out of the apartment and into the labs, which he rarely visited.

"Dr. Foster?" The woman didn't turn from her white board but hummed her acknowledgement of him. "I was wondering if you could tell me about Darcy Lewis."

"Huh?" she asked, standing on her toes to correct a math equation.

"Darcy Lewis. She was your intern in New Mexico?"

"Darcy?" Dr. Foster said, turning around to face him. A smudge of dry-erase dust was across the bridge of her nose, adding to her general air of unkemptness. "What about her?"

OOO

Bucky was hunched over his bowl of cereal at the kitchen island when Steve walked out of his bedroom, file in hand. They didn't say anything as he got a glass of water and leaned against the counter. It had been a rough night, with Steve shouting himself awake just in time to see Bucky throw open his door to check on him.

"Morning," Steve finally said, which got a grunt out of Buck. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

That earned him another grunt.

Sighing, Steve reached across the island to drop the file next to Bucky's arm. He glanced at it before his eyes shot up to meet Steve's. "That's her. That's Darcy Lewis."

"Darcy?" Bucky asked.

"Your…your soul mate." Something hardened in Buck's expression as he used his pinky to push the file further away from him. "Buck," Steve pleaded. "Just look at it, would ya? She's a great girl."

"No." Frustrated, Steve walked around to stand beside him, snatching up the file and opening it. He pulled out a picture and put it within Bucky's eye line.

"Darcy Ann Lewis, born and raised in Virginia. Got a degree in Political Science with a minor in History from Culver University, and now she's studying at George Washington University. She's smart, Bucky, real smart. And funny, and caring, and – "

"A civilian."

Steve was quiet for a moment. "You know who told me how caring she was? Thor." Bucky turned to face him. "He knows her because she worked for his girl in New Mexico. And she was there when this happened." He laid a picture of Puerto Antiguo after the Destroyer. "And you know what she did? She helped to evacuate the town. When Dr. Foster when to London, she went with her and was there when the world nearly fell apart again. So she's _not_ a civilian, Buck."

Bucky was quiet for a moment before reaching out to shift the picture of Puerto Antiguo back towards Steve. "I'm not adding more shit to her life." With his piece said, he grabbed his bowl of cereal and retreated to his room.

OOO

"She's an only child, you know."

"Dr. Foster said she spent a lot of time at the British Museum when they were there."

"Apparently she speaks some Farsi. That's pretty impressive."

"Her students seem to like her. Look, someone gave her a chilly pepper on Rate My Professor."

Steve took to dropping little tidbits about Darcy throughout the next few weeks. Bucky would usually ignore him, the slight tick in his jaw the only indication that he'd heard him. It wasn't the best plan, but it was all Steve could come up with.

He was sitting on the floor of the living room with his back against the couch, trying to sketch the New York City skyline when he felt Bucky standing over him. Steve didn't say anything, just kept on drawing, until he spoke.

"I'm going out tomorrow."

"Yeah?"

"I'll be back late."

"Okay." When he didn't leave, Steve looked up at him. There were dark circles under his eyes and his hair was sticking up as though he'd been running a hand through it over an over again. "Everything okay, Jerk?"

After a moment's hesitation he said, "I'm…I'm going to DC."

A slow grin spread across Steve's lips. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." When he turned to leave, Steve reached out to catch his ankle. He looked at Steve's hand before meeting his gaze.

"I'm happy for you, Bucky. I really am."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: Hey, I'm sooo freaking sorry about the delay between chapters. Like I said before, I'm in a doctoral program which pretty much controls my life. Add to that working on an article for the Midwestern Political Science Association and all of my fic writing goes out the window.

It also didn't help that Steve wasn't really cooperating all that much. Part of that is because this wasn't an OT3 fic to begin with, but a Bucky/Darcy one.

Anyways, sorry again. Don't worry, I won't be abandoning this fic. Also, I apologize for all spelling and grammar issues as this is unbeta'd and I wanted to post it as soon as I had it finished.


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